


the jaws of war

by howyoubrewing



Series: commander and captain [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Battle, CT-7567 | Rex Needs a Hug, Clone Wars, Family, Friendship, Injury, Not a ship, Platonic Relationships, Politics, Recovery, Team Bonding, War, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24096412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howyoubrewing/pseuds/howyoubrewing
Summary: Rex and Ahsoka try to survive a failing siege. Injuries and discussions about attachments occur, and they both reflect on the war they've been thrown into. Because at the end of the day, they are just children fighting in a grown-up's war.
Series: commander and captain [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931347
Comments: 7
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably set around Season 4ish. I really enjoyed exploring Rex and Ahsoka's friendship in this one and letting them have deep conversations. I have most of this fic written minus the ending few chapters, so I hope you enjoy!

Ahsoka has long ago lost count of the planets marred by the war.

The destruction she’s seen is so vast, so deep and gut-wrenching, that after the first six months of being a Padawan she realized that she had to stop being so _upset_ when villages were burned, when she witnessed civilians being murdered, when a once-beautiful planet became scarred and unrecognizable by battles. It was going to take too much of a toll on her—she couldn’t be an effective commander if she cried over every burnt village. Eventually she had to learn to tune it out, to remind herself that _this is war, this is what it’s like,_ and act like she is unbothered. If she acts strong, her men will be more confident. They will feel less fear and uncertainty even in the worst of situations.

But the great machine of war churns across the galaxy relentlessly, and by now it seems like no planet is safe from Separatist interests or becoming collateral damage in a Republic siege. War consumes and burns and destroys, leaving ashes and bodies behind, and Ahsoka is lying to herself if she pretends like it doesn’t bother her deep down. She wishes that for _once_ they could go on an actual _peace_ mission, because that is what the Jedi are supposed to be for before this kriffing war, but it almost always ends in some form of violence or dispute or scuffle. Someone suffers, whether her men or innocent civilians. No one is left unscathed; no one can simply turn a blind eye and deny it away.

Ahsoka thinks about this as she watches a Separatist bomb strike a large civilian building, probably a government hall of sorts,and ignite the structure immediately. Glass shattering, flames leaping hungrily to devour the materials, the interior skeleton beginning to groan. It’s just across from where her and her men are hiding, crouched in an alleyway they’d been backed into during the siege. They’re in the middle of a mid-sized city on a planet the Separatists wanted badly to control; the Republic wanted it too. She tries to tell herself that it’s more about the people currently inhabiting the planet, suffering through Separatist bombardments, and less about the strategic location to key trade routes. This explanation falls empty even to her.

Anakin is Force-knows-where, hopefully less pinned down than she is. It’s been an extensive, drawn-out siege that has taken much longer than even the Council predicted. They’re fighting for every street, one cobblestone at a time, Rex and her men slowly becoming more and more worn down. She glances back to check on the clones yet again, pretending not to notice when the captain straightens a little bit and pulls away from where he’d been leaning heavily against the wall. He, too, is weary.

She sighs. They need to rest, but the battle is far from over. She can hear Separatist tanks growing closer, the march of droids echoing off the city’s foundations. Her muscles ache at the thought of deflecting more blasterfire and cutting down droids. She’s a lot more cut up than preferred, abrasions and a few burns lining her arms and face. Kix wasn’t going to be happy with her—not that he ever was, always mumbling about reckless Jedi making his job more stressful than it already was.

Rex appears at her shoulder, binoculars in hand. “They’re bringing in more clankers from the air, sir,” he says, pointing northwest. Ahsoka follows his gaze to the rapidly approaching Separatist reinforcements, no doubt carrying countless more droids and artillery.

Ahsoka swears, and he fails to suppress a smile at the Huttese that she picked up from Anakin. It’s always funny to him when she swears (she’s not sure why, she isn’t a child anymore) or repeats things Anakin says. “Dammit, Rex, they’ve got us pinned down good. I don’t know how much longer we can hang on. Trying to launch an assault from here would be foolish.”

“All due respect, sir, but this isn’t looking like a fight we’re going to win today,” he says, eyes still fixed on the sky. There was a time where he would not have voiced his opinion to her, but she values it so much, has told him repeatedly that she _needs_ his input, and it pleases her now that he feels comfortable enough to address her as an equal. She isn’t naive enough to think there aren’t clone battalions afraid of their Jedi, unable to speak up.

“I know,” she mutters. “They should have pulled us out a long time ago. Like, yesterday. I don’t get why they’re making us stay. It’s obvious we aren’t going to win at _all_ here, not without plenty of reinforcements.”

“Which we don’t have,” Rex adds,and she nods in agreement.

“How are the men holding up?” She asks, and he gives her an honest shrug.

“Not much better than you or I, Commander,” Rex says, motioning to a large gash down her shoulder. His fingers come up to her face, carefully, and touch a large bruise that’s forming on her cheek. She winces, grabbing his hand, knowing her face is grimy and bloody.

“I’m fine, Rex,” she tells him. “I’m fine. Just tired.” _Tired of this war,_ she thinks.

Rex fixes her with a glance, and even with his helmet on she can tell he’s probably rolling his eyes at her. On the rare occasion that she’ll admit she isn’t doing well on a mission, he would be one of the only ones to know. Not Kix, Fives, or any of the men she’s close with. Definitely not Obi-Wan. Anakin would force it out of her no matter what—he can read her far too well, worries about her way too much. It comes across sometimes as him doubting her abilities, and she knows it isn’t the case, but it makes her less inclined to report any injuries or issues. But Rex she is getting better at being honest with.

She’s about to say something else to him, a joke or another complaint about the Republic’s way of waging war, when she hears it—the scuffing noise of something bouncing across the cobblestones, near them in the alley, the beeping that grows more rapid by the second—

“ _Bomb!”_ She screams at her men, and her first instinct is to grab Rex with the Force and and shove him backwards, as far as she can, and she has only seconds to push the remaining men back too—

The world explodes into light and fire and things are slamming into her, and the thoughts jumble through her mind as she tries to stay conscious— _are her men safe?? Where is Rex?_

Then everything is painful, and her world goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything is dusty and dark.

Ahsoka tries to open her eyes but it _hurts,_ and when she attempts to suck in a breath she inhales dust and dirt and immediately chokes on it. She can’t hear much over the intense ringing in her montrals or the piercing pain that’s ricocheting through her brain. Something is pressing on her torso—debris, maybe—and the rubble beneath her is sharp and rocky and digs into her back.

She continues coughing, trying to expel the particulates that are essentially poisoning the air, making it impossible to take a normal breath. Her throat and lungs burn. She begins to hear shouts as the ringing slowly ratchets down to a low hum, annoying but not debilitating. Something is shifting, groaning, creaking, and she lets out a gasp as the pressure lifts off of her, the debris being pushed aside, and someone is shaking her shoulders.

“ _Ahsoka!_ ” The familiar voice nearly shouts, and it isn’t just the loudness that makes her force her eyes open but the fact that he’s used her _name_ and he sounds so _scared_. “Commander!”

She winces at the intensity of the voice to her sensitive (probably concussed) brain, and looks up at the face of Rex, his eyes wild and panicked. His helmet is off and he’s filthy with soot and dust but otherwise unharmed, and she almost sighs in relief. _Thank the Force._

“Rex—” she croaks, her voice not coming out the way she wants, and breaks into another hacking fit. He helps her into an upright position, patting her back as she fights to breathe. Pain shoots through her ribs and chest as she shudders for oxygen. “M—fine—”

“Like hell you are, Commander,” he scolds, meant to be a joke but she hears the way his voice wavers. “You scared us.”

“Is…is everyone okay?” She asks him weakly, her head pounding, but she needs to _know._

Rex smiles halfheartedly, and relief floods her. “Everyone accounted for, sir, all thanks to you.” She guesses that sometime later she’ll get a lecture from him about how getting herself _blown up_ for her men was stupid.

Rex brings his calloused hands to her face gently and examines her pupils, frowning. “I’m no Kix, but I’d almost guarantee you’ve got a concussion.” He runs a hand down her side and she grimaces. “How does your chest feel? Can you take a deep breath for me, Commander?”

Ahsoka tries, she really does, for him, but inhaling sends waves of white-hot pain through her chest and she clutches at it, gasping. “No, I don’t think I can, Rexter.”

He swears under his breath. “Broken ribs, then. You aren’t gonna get far with those.”

More Separatist ships drone overhead, a lot more than earlier. They aren’t doing any better, then. She doesn’t understand why the Republic won’t pull out; they need reinforcements or else the siege is pointless. They will all die or be taken prisoner if they aren’t evacuated soon. Her squadron has no fighting chance against the Separatist numbers.

As if he senses her thoughts, Rex says, “We need to find some shelter and lay low for a bit. And we need to get you in a safer spot than here.”

She nods, head barely moving because it hurts too much. “Alright. Let’s move down this alley and look for an empty building we can hide in.”

“You heard the Commander! Let’s move, boys!” He shouts, and the men are on their feet, weapons at the ready, sweeping the alleyway. Rex carefully eases an arm under her shoulder and helps haul her to her feet. She lets out a groan of pain as the world swims before her momentarily, struggling to focus. They stagger along for what feels like _miles_ (probably a few hundred yards in reality, and she _hates_ feeling so weak she can barely put one foot in front of the other) and finally the men find a small abandoned storage building. It’s filled with boxes and rubble and probably some wild animals but not droids, so it will have to do.

Rex finds some boxes for them to lean against and tries to help ease her down to the ground—she all but collapses, grimacing as her legs give way. “Ouch,” she mutters, and he helps her sit upright, sitting close to her for support. Ahsoka wishes they were back on the _Resolute,_ safe and clean and uninjured. She tries to make a mental list of the things she’ll do when she’s back—anything to distract from the pain. She slumps a little more, head hitting Rex’s armor beside her, eyes feeling heavy. She’s so _sleepy_ all of a sudden, and she wants nothing more than to take a nice nap here with Rex because they are safe now…

“Ahsoka,” Rex says gently, shaking her a little. She groans in protest. “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t sleep right now. We have to keep you awake with that concussion.”

“You’re not Kix, don’t tell me what to do,” she murmurs, and he chuckles at her attitude. “I’m so _tired,_ Rex.”

“I know, Commander, I know. We just gotta hang in there a little longer. I’m sure the Republic will send reinforcements soon.” She can tell that he doesn’t quite believe his own words either.

“Have you heard from Anakin?” She asks, worried for her master. Her wristcomm had been lost in the explosion, her favorite bracers torn along with it. She knows Anakin can hold his own, but the way this siege was going to _shit_ who knew how well they were doing across the city.

Rex shakes his head. “I tried earlier, before we found you, but I got nothing. They must have been pinned down too.”

“Oh,” she says, unable to keep the worry from her voice.

“I’m sure they’re all right, sir,” he assures her. “I’ll try him again in a bit.”

They sit in silence then, gunfire and artillery fire and explosions echoing in the distance. The sounds of an innocent planet overrun, being gutted and disfigured by someone else’s war.

Ahsoka can hear how labored her breathing sounds; her ribs seem to hurt more by the minute. Her head pounds, and she just wants to sleep, damn it. The men around her are settling in, sharing rations and some dozing off (she is jealous) and while they are all maintaining high spirits, they all look weary. Her men, that sacrifice so much, that have no say in their lives but still give everything for her, for the Jedi. The Republic views them as expendable; something she didn’t always think but had realized gradually, as she became rudely awakened to the ugly politics of war.

“I’m tired of this, Rex,” she admits quietly, not quite meaning for it to slip out. But her injured brain doesn’t have much ability to restrain her thoughts.

He shifts and turns so he’s facing her, pulling off his helmet. “I’ll help you stay awake, don’t worry. Shouldn’t be much longer now.”

“No,” she grumbles, “I’m tired of _this_. This kriffing war.”

“Oh.” Rex blinks, unsure of how to answer.

She sighs. “I just…I hate watching our men die in battle and then the Republic not even caring. They just send in another unit. They think that they can just manufacture more on Kamino and that it’s the same, that you guys aren’t individual human beings with lives. I’m sick of destroying planets like this one. So many innocent people, displaced and killed. Their homes destroyed. And they have no say in it.”

Rex looks a little uncomfortable—soldiers follow orders, they don’t question them—but he also doesn’t look like he completely disagrees. He just listens, something that means so much to her in a war where rank and experience and age were _everything_ and the Jedi always reminded her of that fact. Even Anakin sometimes tried to talk over her, to fix her problems and not just hear her out.

“They keep telling me I’m too young to question their decisions,” she goes on, getting frustrated despite the pain in her body, “but they don’t think I’m too young to be leading a group of men during a violent, doomed siege where they have failed to provide backup or evacuations. They don’t think I’m too young to see so much death and participate in war.”

“You were what, ten when I first met you?” Rex teases, biting back a laugh.

“I was fourteen and you know it!” Ahsoka tries to laugh too, but it _hurts,_ kriff it, and she gasps. “I appreciate the distracting, Rexter, but you gotta be less funny.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll try, but you know me,” he protests, and she rolls her eyes. “Seriously though, Commander…you’re the best leader these men have ever had. _Will_ ever have, if I may be so bold. It’s obvious to each of us that you care. That you don’t view us as numbers. You’d sacrifice yourself for any of us and we would do the same. You didn’t have to do that little stunt today to prove it.” He’s teasing, but she can tell it rattled him, almost losing his commander. He’d probably thought at least for a second that she’d been killed in the explosion.

“You’ve called me Ahsoka a few times today,” she says curiously.

He frowns. “I know, sir. I’m sorry. I was out of line, I—I was just really worried about you, sir. I was scared.”

Ahsoka shakes her head despite the effort it takes. “No, that’s—that’s not what I meant. I’m not correcting you. I was just wondering. I haven’t heard you do that before.”

Rex smiles a little through the layers of dirt and grime on his face. “We clones have close bonds with each other. But apart from that, well…we aren’t really supposed to have bonds with others, especially Jedi. We’re just supposed to be soldiers and serve. I think the Jedi have a similar mindset—you refer to them as attachments, right?”

 _Oh, the attachments._ The amount of rants she has heard Anakin embark on about the “stupid, unrealistic and unhealthy” part of the Jedi code forbidding attachments is…well, a lot. She wasn’t blind to his feelings towards Senator Amidala (she was honestly sure it was _way_ more than just feelings; she heard him sneaking out at night sometimes) and she knew he was too closely attached to both her and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was essentially his father figure, and any risk to him was a threat to Anakin. She still shudders when she recalls Anakin’s reckless, vengeful behavior when they were hunting Rako Hardeen—when they thought Obi-Wan was dead. No, a typical Jedi would know when to let go of their former Master.

And then there’s her and Anakin. In her mind he is somewhere in between a father and older brother. He helped raise her, taught her everything he knew, and is far too protective of her. She worries that if anything happened to her, he would lose it. And not just his typical _losing it_ when she was hurt or in danger, but a different kind of unhinged. She didn’t know if he’d recover.

Ahsoka knows that she is also a little attached to her master. For the longest time, nobody wanted her—she felt unwanted by her people, who had sent her away. By the other Jedi masters who didn’t choose her for Padawan, for years, saying she was too reckless, too much attitude. Even Anakin hadn’t wanted her at first. But finally, _finally,_ she had a family. She had a master who was proud of her, who loved and protected her. And it’s reasons like those that make her think attachments might not be that bad.

She’s pulled away from her thoughts, distracted by Rex’s question and how much she currently misses Anakin, and remembers where she is. “Yeah, attachments,” she confirms.

“We aren’t supposed to be attached to any of our commanding officers,” Rex continues, “because we could be reassigned at any minute, they could be moved around, you get the picture. Plus, it could be distracting, especially in the field. We gotta look out for our men and our Jedi equally. I just…the boys of the 501st and I are pretty karking attached to you.”

Ahsoka snorts. “You saying you’re all in love with me, Rexter?” She jokes, and she guesses that under all the soot covering his face he is blushing.

“No, sir! Nothing like that. We just…we do _love_ you, a lot. We view you as one of us, one of our _vode._ I care a lot about you, and I’d consider you one of my closest friends. It’s an honor to fight by your side.”

Ahsoka smiles. “And yours, Rex.”

“So that’s kind of why I used your name. It just came out. We’ve known each other for so long, been through so much together.” She can practically see him reimagining that day on Christophsis when she arrived, small and snippy and wide-eyed.

“The Jedi Council probably wouldn’t approve,” she reasons, “but I really don’t mind if you call me Ahsoka. You’ve saved my life enough times to earn the right to use it.”

“Of course, Commander,” he retorts, and she would laugh again if not for her ribs complaining.

“I’ll always watch your back, Rex,” she says, grinning, and this is a promise—which Ahsoka Tano takes very seriously—so she extends her hand out to him in a mock-handshake.

“And I’ll always watch yours, sir.” He reaches out and squeezes her hand, tight, reassuring.

The distant thunder of tanks, bombing and gunfire are a faraway hum, unimportant. Maybe they are trapped here in the middle of a planet rapidly collapsing under Separatist attack. Maybe they are both two kids thrown into a war and forced to grow up too quickly. But they have each other’s backs and they are here, together, side by side like always.

And for Ahsoka, right now, that is enough.


	3. Chapter 3

The night passes, slowly at first, then blending into a timeless blur. Rex selflessly stays up the entire time, making sure Ahsoka doesn’t pass out (she knows it’s for her own good but it gets frustrating, because she’s so sleepy, and she calls him a few names that she’ll apologize for later). The morning comes, finally, bringing with it an increase in artillery and gunfire that seems to grow closer to them every few minutes. The boxes at her back rattle with the _boom_ of the bombings.

“We can’t stay here,” Rex says, voicing her thoughts. Their pathetic group of remaining men are already gathering up their meager supplies, awaiting orders. Ahsoka doesn’t even known what the orders should be—she’s afraid that no matter what they do they are doomed. That they’ll be shot down or surrounded sooner or later. Everyone knows the city is being completely overrun by the Seppies. It isn’t a secret, and she can see the etches of fear on a few of their faces.

Ahsoka thought that a night of rest would’ve helped her feel better, but she just feels more battered and pained than before. Breathing _hurts_ ; she grabs her side with every inhale and bites back a groan. Her head spins, pounds, screams. Her mouth still tastes of dirt and blood. When Rex helps her to her feet, the world tips on its axis for a second and he has to catch her as her legs buckle. She swears yet again, hands gripping his armor like a lifeline, and he doesn’t laugh at her language this time. No, things are getting too dire for either of them to find much humor in anything.

Rex’s wristcomm beeps and she’s almost startled by the noise since comms have been down for at least nine hours. There’s crackling, static, then finally—

“Rex, do you read me?” Anakin’s urgent voice—she wants to cry in relief. _He’s okay._

“I hear you, sir,” Rex sounds relieved too, and carefully shifts Ahsoka’s weight to his other side so he can bring the comm to his helmet. “What’s your status?”

“The Republic is pulling out, we’re losing too much ground and we don’t have reinforcements. We’re evacuating all our forces at 0900, just outside the northwest quadrant of the city.”

“Got it, sir. We’ll be there.”

“How are you guys holding up?” His connection wavers a bit, the static noise hurting her already-sensitive head.

“We’re…not doing great, sir. Lost a lot of men, and the Commander needs medical attention.”

She gives Rex a pointed look—she didn’t want to tell Anakin, because now he would worry incessantly about her—but it was too late now and she could hear him struggling to sound calm and collected. “Ahsoka? What happened?”

“I’m fine, Master,” Ahsoka reassures him, trying to sound more lucid than she was. “I got thrown in an explosion. Concussion and broken ribs. I’ll be okay.”

“Like hell you’re _fine,_ ” he practically growls. “Rex, you take care of her.”

“Of course, sir.”

Anakin sighs. “We’ll see you soon, then. Don’t be late.”

The connection fizzles out. Rex squeezes her shoulder gently. “We’ll make it, sir. The General will wait for us. And he’s not injured.”

“I’m not sure we’ll make it there in an hour with me in this condition, Rex. Or if we meet any opposition on the way.” She stares at the ground, dread at the thought of her remaining men being slaughtered as they fled. She feels guilty; she knows she will slow Rex down and if anything happens to him she _will_ blame herself.

He scoffs. “I’m a little hurt you don’t think I can get you there, Commander.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I mean it, Rex. I’m slowing you down and putting you all at risk.”

“That’s our job, sir. We risk our lives for the Republic every day. And it’s _my_ job to make sure you’re on that evac ship.”

She takes a deep breath and nods, pushing down the feelings of guilt. She can deal with them later—now she needs to think strategy and survival. They have to get to that ship.

She coughs and extricates herself from Rex’s arm, attempting to look a little less pathetic to her men. Force, she wishes they had painkillers. Her voice is hoarse, “Okay, we’re falling back to the northwest. An evac ship will be waiting for us outside the city. We need to be there _soon_ , so try to avoid engaging the enemy unless absolutely necessary. We’re retreating, so our goal is to be covert and avoid the Seppies seeing much of us at all. We’re gonna go through the alleyways—no big streets or anything where we’re out in the open. Just follow Captain Rex and I’s lead. Understood?”

The men nod and she steels herself as another explosion rattles the building. “Alright, move out!” Rex shouts, and they burst out of the warehouse into the sunlight, barely visible through all the smoke and ash and dust.

They move quickly down the alley, and other than the fact that Ahsoka can hardly put a foot in front of the other, things go relatively smoothly for a bit. Things are quiet in the shadowy corridor, no droids or bombs looming. She can hear how ragged her breathing is, almost like metal scraping together, and all she wants to do is collapse, to curl into the fetal position on the ground until the pain stops. She misses the _Resolute;_ her soft bed, the mechanical humming of the ship. She hates meditation, but right now she’d do just about anything to be at the Temple with Anakin, grumbling about it.

Force, she’s so weary of war. She doesn’t want to fight any more.

She remembers when she was younger, in the first year or less of being a Padawan, she loved just about every battle or opportunity to prove herself. She lived for the surge of adrenaline that surged through her veins when she leaped out of the transport ships into a raging war zone, shouting orders at her men and slicing down droids. It was _natural_ and easy and it felt good, and some part of her found it _fun_ too, bantering alongside Anakin and Rex and the boys. And she still does that sometimes, too, but the novelty and thrill of warfare has rubbed away, leaving behind the ugly parts of it—the bodies, the injuries and carnage, the constant risk of the people she cares about making it out in one piece. The trauma and battle reflexes that prevents her from sleeping through the night.

Ahsoka doesn’t let Rex loop his arm around her, despite how much her body begs for support. No, she needs to be alert and look focused and together, for her men’s sake, and she doesn’t want to slow him down. She grits her teeth and wipes sweat out of her eyes, her hand coming back with dirt and dried blood. Force, she probably looks horrendous. Rex doesn’t look much better, even with his helmet on; him and the rest of the men (mostly shinies, she notes) are filthy and battered.

“Heads up! We got clankers incoming!” Rex shouts, and her eyes lock on a dozen or so droids filtering into the alley in front of them, cutting off their path. Ahsoka groans, mentally taking note of the fact that they have about thirty minutes left to make it to the evac. She knows Anakin would never leave them behind, but he wouldn’t be the one piloting the transport ship and there was definitely the possibility of another general making a different call.

They’re so close, though—she can see the outer wall of the city, about a mile or less away. Close enough to give her a little bit of hope, at least, as she draws her sabers and slashes down the droids ahead of her men, letting her instincts take over, the ache in her head subsiding as she falls back into the familiar rhythm.

Ahsoka bites back a cry as a shot skims her shoulder, leaving a nasty blaster burn behind. Dammit, the droids keep coming. Too much commotion and it’ll draw the attention of other Separatist pockets in the city. With a flash of anger, she impales the last super battle droid and it falls with a _clang_ at her feet.

Twenty-five minutes left.

“You alright, sir?” Rex is at her side, indicating the burn. She waves his concern away.

“Just a flesh wound, Rexter. Don’t you worry about me.”

“Yes sir,” he responds, but she knows he still is. “Come on men, keep moving!”

The concussion _hurts_ now, and she’s swamped with a wave of dizziness that makes the dirt beneath her feet sway and tilt like an unsteady ship taking off. She _hates_ head wounds.

His hand is on her unharmed shoulder, steadying her. She forces a weak smile. “Almost there, Captain.”

They trudge on.

She’s about to give up—she wants to tell Rex to take their men and go, she’ll catch up later or get another evac (they both know this is unlikely) when the northern wall of the city appears. Now all they have to do is scale it, and on the other side—

“Captain Rex, we’re in position outside the city.” Anakin’s voice crackles through Rex’s comms. “Are you there?”

“About to climb the wall, sir. Be right there—”

A stray bomb from overhead collides with the wall before Ahsoka can even react, and it explodes into rock and dust.

When the air clears at least somewhat, she finds herself on the ground next to Rex, his armored arm covering her head in protection. She coughs and hacks, annoyingly reminded of her earlier bomb incident (Anakin is going to be really mad at the amount of times she’s nearly been blown to pieces on this mission) and her eyes sting and water from the dust and smoke.

She’s scared for a second, because he’s still, but then he shifts to his knees and coughs and relief floods her. “You alright there, Rex?”

“I’m good, Commander,” he assures, assessing her for damage. His white armor is a filthy brown and black, and she’s probably a similar shade too. Behind them, the other troopers are slowly getting to their feet. She does a head count—all accounted for, somehow.

Fortunately the wall is now cleared, and she can see the evacuation transport ship on the other side. The doors slide open and she wants to cry because there’s Anakin, safe, yelling at them to hurry the Force up. She can’t care less how mad he is (even though he knows it isn’t her she’s mad at, but the Council, as usual).

They struggle over the unstable mountain of debris, and she stumbles down the other side, her knees hitting the dirt. She puts a hand to her head, willing the world to stop spinning. Rex hauls her to her feet, arms under hers as he nearly fully supports her, and she doesn’t protest this time because she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to walk straight on her own. Her chest heaves with effort, each breath painful.

_Don’t black out, don’t black out._

Before she knows it they’re at the ship—somehow, miraculously, and Anakin is pulling her in with a sick look of worry written across his face, and the men that she’s somehow kept alive fill in behind her. Rex, exhausted, carefully hands her off to Anakin. He wraps a strong arm around her, the other holding onto the handle above them, and she leans into his chest and tries to stay conscious.

“Force, Snips, you look awful,” he teases quietly, but his voice wavers a little bit. She’s too exhausted to do much more than attempt a half-hearted protest about how he doesn’t look much better. 

“I’m tired of this war, Master,” she mumbles into his robes, barely audible.

“I know, Snips,” he whispers, rubbing her back soothingly. “I know. Me too.”


	4. Chapter 4

The ride back to the _Resolute_ is blurry. Anakin keeps a tight arm around her, her eyes closed, willing herself to stay awake as she breathes in the familiar scent of his robes. They just have to get to the medbay and then she can sleep. Force, she wants to sleep so badly. She’s so _weak_ and she hates it.

At some point she goes limp against Anakin, feels her knees buckle as she begins to crash to the floor. She just can’t stand anymore in the dim light of the ship, her surroundings swimming and her muscles spasming from exhaustion.

“Ahsoka!” Anakin shouts in alarm, and she starts to black out, and when she finally comes to he is holding her, one arm looped under her knees, yelling frantically at their poor pilot to hurry up. She feels like a youngling, cradled against his chest and unable to do much other than groan.

“M…fine,” she mutters, nearly incoherent, her eyelids fluttering.

“Shh, Snips, we’re almost there,” he hums, adjusting her in his arms ever so carefully. She thinks vaguely that his mech hand isn’t quite as soothing as his real one; it digs into her back a little bit as he holds her. Oh, well.

Soon enough they land, and he is rushing her to the medbay, comming Kix, and she’s just so relieved to finally be back on the _Resolute_ and away from the battlefield. In a blur she’s in a medical bed and Kix is there, nicely telling his general to _calm down_ and please get out of his way so he can work. Something pinches her forearm, followed by a warm feeling, and she slowly feels herself drift off into pleasant, white nothingness.

—

Ahsoka wakes slowly, her eyes heavy and her body unwilling to move much as if it, too, wants to stay asleep. She squints at the bright lights around her, the soft clean sheets, the smell of antiseptic and linens. _The medbay,_ she realizes. She’s safe.

Her shoulder is bandaged and she can smell the bacta, remembering the blaster burn she received at the tail end of their escape. Her ribs are wrapped tightly as well, but it doesn’t hurt quite so much to breathe thanks to the painkillers, and the pounding in her head is now a distant, dull throbbing. As her eyes focus she realizes with a start that her Master is slumped in a chair next to her, his head resting on the bed, sound asleep.

She grins and pokes him gently. “Master,” she croaks, her voice hoarse from sleep and the smoke she inhaled on that kriffing planet. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

He sits up with a start, and his face breaks into a smile when he sees her awake. “Snips!” His face is tired and tense from worry, and he hasn’t yet washed off the grime from the siege. But his eyes are warm and relieved as he squeezes her hand. “It’s about time!”

Ahsoka frowns. “How long was I out?”

“Less than a day. We’ll be back on Coruscant soon. Kix said you need about two weeks off duty and training to heal your ribs and head.”

She groaned. “Ugh. Boring.”

“You deserve the break, Ahsoka. You really scared me there for a minute, on the shuttle. It’s okay to take a break for once. I put in a request for a few days as well. I…I need to blow off some steam and just _not_ see the Council for a bit.”

“Master…” she hesitates, then remembers that Obi-Wan or any other typical Jedi aren’t here, and she can speak freely. This is Anakin, for Force sake. She can trust him with anything. “Why didn’t the Council pull us out sooner? Or send us in with more troops and generals? That planet was doomed from the start.”

His face is grim. “I know, Snips. And you and Rex almost got killed because of it. I won’t be ready to forgive them for a while. Putting _my_ life at risk for a stupid junk planet that the Separatists had all the advantages over in the first place? Fine. But it’s a different story when it’s my Padawan and my captain.”

“It feels like all we do lately is destroy things,” she admits softly. “We’re supposed to be peacekeepers. But I’ve been a soldier for two years. I’ve seen so many people die, Master.”

He lets out a long breath as he leans back in his chair. “It isn’t fair to you at all, Ahsoka. Padawans are supposed to go on peaceful missions and learn things with their Masters. Obi-Wan and I, before the war, we would go to different planets and meditate, study the Force, learn about the different lifeforms around the galaxy. One time I…I was sent to Naboo to protect Senator Amidala. I got to see the planet and it was so beautiful, Snips, so peaceful. There was no war to worry about. You’ve never gotten anything close to that, and I hate that for you.”

Ahsoka suspects that the nice scenery was not the main reason Anakin enjoyed Naboo, but she suppresses a smirk and lets him go on.

“One of the reasons I didn’t want a Padawan was because I didn’t want to be responsible for one during a war. I thought, and still think, it isn’t an appropriate place for a kid. I didn’t want to be responsible for you,” he admits, and she rolls her eyes, remembering how irate he had been when she’d stepped off that ship on Christophsis so long ago. “Or for anything that happened to you. I remember how scared I was on Tatooine when I got to Jabba’s palace and you weren’t there. I thought that Dooku had…” He trails off, frowning at the memory.

“But,” he amends, “even though I hate that you had to become my apprentice during this war, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. You’re one of the best things to come out of it.”

“Wow Skyguy, getting sentimental on me?” She teases, and he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he retorts, but they share a look and she knows what they’re both thinking—that without each other this war wouldn’t really be worth fighting. That without each other they probably wouldn’t have made it through. “Rex told me what you did to protect the men, and how you led them out of there in one piece. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks, Master. I missed fighting with you, but I’m glad I had Rex with me.” She frowns. “Where is he, speaking of? He’s not—”

Anakin waves a hand at her concerns. “Rex is fine, Ahsoka, don’t worry. He was here for a while, making sure you were okay and talking to Kix. I sent him to clean up and get some rest.”

She sighs in relief. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”

“He’s a good man,” Anakin agrees. “Glad he kept my Padawan in one piece.”

“I did almost get blown up twice,” she comments, finding a lot of amusement in the look of slight horror on his face. “I would have been in _many_ pieces.”

“ _Don’t_ remind me. Kriff, how would I explain that to the Council?” He makes a face. “‘Sorry, Mace, my Padawan got blown up during the campaign that was _your_ idea and by the way, a terrible idea at that.’”

Ahsoka’s ribs protest as she laughs at him. Their mutual disdain of Master Windu is long-running, and she finds that making jokes about him with Anakin tends to mean she’s less prone to accidentally roll her eyes at him during Council briefings.

Anakin’s comms beep. “General, we’re coming out of hyperspace.”

“Copy that, Admiral. I’ll be there in a moment.” Anakin winks at her. “Well, duty calls. I’ll see you when we get back to the Temple.” He squeezes her uninjured shoulder and gives her a reassuring smile.

After arguing with and practically begging Kix, the medic finally agrees to let her recuperate in her Temple quarters and not the medical wing. “As long as you actually _rest,_ Ahsoka,” he scolds, helping her up from the bed when they land at the Temple. “I mean it. I’ll make sure to check up on you and ask the General about you.”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes at him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Kix.”

“Frankly, all you Jedi could use one,” he mutters. He drops her off at her quarters, fixing one last stern gaze on her. She sinks onto her bed, reveling in the comfort of her and Anakin’s quarters, the simple familiarity that relaxes her. For now, at least, she gets a break from the fighting. Here in the Temple, in the silence of her room, there is no war.

But even as she hits the ‘fresher and scrubs the dirt and blood from her tired body, the questions keep spinning around in her mind. How much longer would the war last? Would the Republic be able to keep up and defeat the Separatists? At what point would enough be enough for them? How many planets, systems and species had to be displaced or killed in the process? She wonders what the clones will do afterwards. What she will do as a Jedi in peacetime when all she’s ever known is fighting tooth and nail for her life. Will Anakin and Rex and the rest of the 501st still be standing by the time the machine of war finally stops churning?

The endless queries hurt her concussed brain, and she tries to distract herself from them as she dries off and puts on a clean, comfortable outfit. Now that she thinks about it, two weeks off doesn’t sound that bad. Two weeks without the sounds of blaster fire and artillery or worrying about keeping her platoon alive. Fourteen days of not having to see any cities destroyed or civilians treated as expendable.

She senses a presence at her door a second before the knock. She knows it isn’t Anakin—he never knocks, anywhere, simply barges into whatever room in the galaxy he pleases and announces his presence. And she isn’t expecting any visitors, so she curiously waves her hand and allows the door to slide open.

Ahsoka is surprised to see Captain Rex standing in the doorframe, looking slightly out of place in the Temple but more relaxed than earlier, his helmet under his arm and blaster away. He’s cleaned up his armor, looking much less grimy.

“Hey, kid.” He smiles at her. “How you holding up?”

“I told you not to worry about me, Rexter. Kix says I’ll be fine in a matter of a week or two.” She analyzes him, happy to see that he is standing straight—other than a few streaks of dirt and stray cuts on his neck and face, he looks largely uninjured and whole. “What are you doing here anyways?”

He looks a little sheepish. “I accompanied General Skywalker to the Council debriefing to offer additional information, as you needed to rest. He, uh—he was pretty angry at them. Blew up a little bit. But I wanted to check in and make sure you’re doing alright, since I haven’t seen you awake since you were taken to the medbay.”

She nods understandingly. “Anakin told me you were in the medbay. Sorry I wasn’t conscious for visitors.”

He chuckles. “I’m very glad you’re okay, Commander. The boys send their well-wishes, too. Fives says your next drink’s on him at 79’s.”

“Anakin would _kill_ him, you know he hates when I go with you guys!” She laughs. Remembering that he’s still standing awkwardly in the door, she motions him in. “Come on in, Captain, you don’t need to just stand there.”

“Kix said you should rest, sir—” He protests, moving in enough so she can shut the door behind him.

Ahsoka waves her hand at him dismissively. “I would rather visit with my friend and make sure he’s alright, Kix can get over it. Tea?”

“Uh…sure,” he hesitates, and she marvels internally at the strangeness of it all—how just a day ago they were fighting for their lives and now she is offering him _tea_ and feeling a bit like Master Obi-Wan, but this is what he always does with guests.

“You can relax, Rex, you’re off-duty,” she says over her shoulder as she heats up the water. “What happened to just calling me Ahsoka?”

He sits at the table and she notes the dark circles of weariness under his eyes. He’s quiet, contemplating, and he almost doesn’t hear her question. “Sorry. That last campaign shook me up a little. I’m having a hard time relaxing.”

She sets the mugs down and sits across from him. “Me too,” she admits. “I just can’t stop thinking…what if this never ends? What if we _lose_?”

“Lot of job security for me, if this thing never ends,” he says, the barest of smiles tugging at his mouth.

“I’m not sure what comes after, either. I don’t know what to do if I’m not strategizing or fighting.”

Rex studies her. “I don’t know what comes after either, Ahsoka, but I know you’re going to be good at it no matter what. You’re a great Jedi already, you’ll only get better.”

Ahsoka smiles. She doesn’t really understand his unflagging faith in her and Anakin—she never quite has. But it makes her feel warm inside nonetheless. “I owe you one, Rex. For dragging me out of there.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s my job.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t have made it out if it weren’t for you. And your stubborn inability to listen to me when I told you to leave me behind.”

“General Skywalker would’ve had my hide if not,” he points out, joking. “Otherwise I would have.” She cracks another grin at that.

“Thanks for always having my back, Rex.”

“Always, sir. That’s a promise, and I try not to break those,” he says, and he reaches out his hand, echoing her gesture from earlier when they were in an old warehouse during a siege and she thought they might die. Yet here they are, very much alive, and the contrast is funny to her. Ahsoka grips his hand and squeezes. What has she done to deserve a friend like him?

Her eyes are growing heavier despite herself, noticeably so, and it irritates her. “Ahsoka, you need to sleep,” Rex chides, standing. “And I do, too. We’re exhausted. We’ve earnedit.”

He helps her to her feet, and over to her bed—she clambers in, already feeling sleep pull at her, her mind desperate for rest and her body wanting to heal. “Tell Fives…next weekend, drinks,” she mumbles, trying not to drift off quite yet, still in a semi-sitting position.

“I’ll tell him, sir,” he chuckles. “You sleep now, alright?”

Ahsoka throws her arms around him in a hug without warning, the sentimentality startling him, but he returns the gesture, his armored hand patting her back. “I’m glad you’re alive, Rex,” she murmurs sleepily. “I’m glad I get to fight with you.”

“It’s an honor, sir,” and he really, genuinely smiles at her as she pulls back, soft and kind, less of the battle-hardened captain she is used to. “I’ll always fight by your side, kid.”

  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and thank you to those who left such kind comments on earlier chapters. I hope you enjoyed this story!


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